


Becalmed

by MarieTurtle



Category: Black Sails
Genre: AU, F/M, ashebones, but they ran away with me, kissy times, this was supposed to be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23449807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieTurtle/pseuds/MarieTurtle
Summary: Abigail is with the Walrus crew when they are becalmed, having been rescued during their reign of terror along the coast.Billy insists on convincing her to eat despite her emotional turmoil from the fallout of the past few months of her life.
Relationships: Abigail Ashe/Billy Bones
Comments: 17
Kudos: 61





	Becalmed

“You have to eat, Abigail.”

Abigail lifted her exhausted eyes to Billy and turned away from him in her narrow bed. “I will not take food from men who need it more.”

They risked their lives to fetch her from her Savannah prison amid their campaign down the colonial coast. One of their victims had mentioned her name to Flint. At first, she’d believed the action was selfless, owing to some misplaced fatherly affection or loyalty to Mrs. Hamilton. When she saw the force of his rage, she thought otherwise. Was he not simply thumbing his nose at the authorities? Was she nothing but a declaration that pirates and their sympathizers were to remain untouchable? He’d used her as a pawn before; her supposed rescue was no different.

She was a mouth to feed. She’d been terrified during the storm, but now she wished it had washed her away.

With great effort and a suppressed groan, he sank to the floor and she sensed the bowl held out for her. Whatever was in it likely bared only a passing resemblance to food. It had been broth and lamprey scrapings for days now. She recalled her desperate hunger driving her to eat the slop Low’s crew left for her and the maggoty bread Vane offered. That hunger was gone. She felt only emptiness.

“Please eat.”

“Why?” Her throat, lips, and tongue felt burnt raw by sun and salt. The broth would be soothing, at least, but she couldn’t take it, not when Billy looked as he did. When she first saw him, what seemed like a lifetime ago, he’d been the most singularly vital man she’d ever encountered. He was all sun-bronzed skin and muscles carved from stone and long loping gait and…

If she had moisture to spare, she would have wept thinking about the transformation sitting on the deck behind her. He looked much the same as all the others; pale, sunken cheeks, chapped lips, clothes hanging limp on a frame she’d once thought unassailable. She’d latched onto the idea of him—the gentleman pirate, the lost soul, the force of life that could do anything in the world—but seeing him brought so low broke something in her she’d thought long shattered.

She turned her head just enough to observe him in her periphery. He watched her like a puzzle he couldn’t sort out. His normally quick mind had slowed from starvation and dehydration. From her observations, the Billy she knew would have talked her into chewing glass twice over by now. 

“You have to eat,” he said.

“I don’t.” She pushed the bowl back to him. The effort it took to merely lift her arm made her want to close her eyes and drift away.

He scooted closer until his long legs stretched beneath her rack and he put the bowl in her face where she couldn’t avoid the scent. It smelled like Christmas and ballrooms and all her favorite dishes rolled into one.

Perhaps she was losing her mind. That’s what her caretakers at the asylum said.

“Please, Abigail,” he said. “You’ll die.”

“Why? Why shouldn’t I? This could feed one of your men. It could feed you. You need it far more than I do.”

His eyes tightened at the corners and he gave a small headshake. “Why are you talking like this?”

She tried to swallow, but couldn’t make her throat work. How could she explain her feelings to him? As much as she attached herself to the idea of him, their interactions had been limited. He’d kept a respectful distance, like the other sailors. For all intents and purposes, they were acquaintances, little more than strangers.

How could she tell him of her despair? How could she explain the heartache of being trussed and bagged and passed from one man to the next as a bargaining chip? Her life had been reduced to that of a coin, good for nothing except what men could purchase with it. Low wanted coin. Vane wanted coin. Flint wanted power, first to win his war, now to terrorize. 

She served no purpose on this ship. She could mend sails, but so could every other man aboard. She took a cabin from Silver. She took sparse food and water. 

Abigail was no fool. She understood that her place in society as a woman treated her little differently. Her father had sent for her precisely to make a marriage profitable to himself and the man he chose. But there had at least been the hope that she’d find love, if not from a husband, then from the children she would bear. 

Love made life worth living. Abigail had no more illusions about her life. Love would never be part of it again.

“What does he want with me? I’ve served my purpose.”

He opened his mouth, but paused before speaking and set the bowl on the deck. “I assume you mean Flint.”

Abigail nodded once.

“Right. Look, I could play the proper first mate here and tell you the captain never acts with ulterior motives and always looks toward your best interests, but I suspect you’d see through that.”

Did he know? Had Flint shared his honest intentions with him, captain to first mate? Part of her thrilled at the notion that he chose honesty with her, an act of intimacy, but another part shriveled the way it had when she learned of Billy’s role in her father’s—admittedly justified—destruction. He’d used her private words without her knowledge or consent. Knowing what she did, she would have handed the journal over, but they never asked her.

No one ever asked her what she wanted.

“I don’t know why he came for you, but I can tell you the crew voted unanimously to do it. Maybe he doesn’t give a damn about you, maybe he does. The crew never questioned saving you, though. We wanted to see you free.”

She turned her sore body to face him. In another life, she’d be horrified at the state of her undress before him, clad only in a shift and light robe that once belonged to Mrs. Hamilton. She found that she was beyond caring anymore. What did it matter? It was too hot and she was too tired.

“What do you want from me?”

The quick mind she’d recognized from their first meeting sparked to life. A casual observer might not have noticed, but she saw it in his eyes, the way the wheels spun and he fit the pieces together. Maybe it wasn’t his quick mind at work here, though. The way he spoke about Captain Flint belied a deeper understanding, perhaps borne of personal experience. 

“I want you to eat. I want you to stay alive, because we will get the wind back. I want,” he raised a plaintive hand then dropped it to his thigh, “I want to see you safe and happy and free.”

Miraculous tears escaped on a hiccuping sob. Had anyone ever wanted something so simple, so purely selfless for her? Perhaps her mother, then Mrs. Hamilton, but she’d spent so little time with the woman before...before.

Billy’s face crumpled into the bewildered horror of a man confronted by female tears. He reached for her hand, hesitated, then finally took it. The differences between their hands momentarily stalled her tears. His were so large, with long and blunt fingers, rough with callouses. Yet he held hers gently, the way one held something fragile and precious. 

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered and scooted closer, leaning over her. He smoothed her limp hair back and brushed away her tears. His touch felt so good, she leaned into it. “I don’t know what to do.”

Laughter overcame the onslaught of emotion. That only inspired more bewilderment from Billy, which in turn inspired more laughter. Of course he didn’t know what to do. One of the most capable men she’d ever encountered, the fearsome and imposing pirate, second to the terrifying Captain Flint, brought to his knees by a crying woman.

That made her laugh harder. The infectiousness of her mirth took hold and his wrought expression transformed into a slow smile.

“What are you laughing about?”

“You,” she said.

His brows raised. “Me?”

“Billy Bones, terror of the West Indies, cannot bear to see a woman cry. How ever do you manage your pirating?”

He scoffed, then turned deadly serious. “Do you really want to know how I manage my pirating?”

Did she? She wasn’t sure, not now, perhaps not ever. At this point in her life, she could accept that violence lurked everywhere in the world beyond her sheltered upbringing. She could even appreciate the pirates’ goals, however oblique they seemed. The world had been revealed to her since her abduction and she learned to appreciate the complexities of morality outside her books and tutors.

That didn’t mean she wanted to hear the details from Billy’s mouth, however.

His gaze turned predatory. All thoughts about the truth of Billy’s nature vanished, distilled into this strange curling in her belly. If he was a predator, that made her his prey. She should have feared him, but she didn’t. She wanted to know what he would do, driven by some base instinct telling her he wouldn’t hurt her. 

“I’ll show you,” he enunciated each word carefully, “exactly,” his grip tightened on hers almost imperceptibly, “how I manage…”

Instead of finishing his thought, his hands lunged for her ribs. He tickled her relentlessly while she squealed and thrashed with a burst of energy she didn’t know she could ever possess again. She’d had a nurse once who’d delighted in tickling her. Then she got older and only her mother was permitted such casual intimacy as touching. Then her mother died and the only physical contact she had were the sparse occasions when she required a maid to help her dress and fix her hair.

Billy’s touch broke a dam in her heart. She couldn’t breathe through her laughter, yet she never wanted it to end. Their play struggle brought him closer, half into the bed with her. They froze when they both realized it at the same time.

Her breath caught in her breast. Liquid heat made her want to press her legs together, though she didn’t understand why. To be feeling anything at all beyond bone-deep exhaustion and despair was miraculous. In short order, Billy had pulled her out of that hole and into uncharted territory.

His grip on her waist shifted and expanded, exploring in a way that was no longer playful. They didn’t speak. They couldn’t. All the air had been sucked out of the room. Was this what first kisses were supposed to be like? She’d once envisioned hers, a chaste affair with a young gentleman after she’d accepted his offer of marriage. This wasn’t at all like she’d imagined.

Billy was rough and raw and real, leaning over her, achingly close, thrumming with constrained energy. The world fell away. There was no ship, no war, no hunger. Thoughts of imminent death vanished. There was only her and Billy.

When he brushed his nose against hers, her eyes fluttered closed. His lips were so close to hers, she had only to press her face a little higher and they would be kissing.

He jerked away and everything came crashing down, slammed back into the reality of their situation. Disappointment warred with shame. She should have known better than to let herself believe a man like Billy would ever have a true interest in a silly little girl with an infatuation. 

In an effort to salvage some pride, she sat up and tugged her robe tighter. Billy’s chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, watching her with an unreadable expression.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last. He retrieved her bowl and held it out to her. This time she accepted it.

He mumbled another apology and hustled out of her cabin, leaving her with a bowl of cold lamprey and confusion.

* * *

The next day, raised voices on deck roused Abigail from her state of neither sleep nor wakefulness. She shrank against the rack remembering the last time she’d heard shouting up there, silenced after two cracking pistol shots. 

Instead of pistol shots, the decks overhead groaned beneath a great thump and then...was that cheering? She sat up and squinted against the bright light from her porthole. Three quick hard knocks on her hatch preceded Billy’s first appearance since the previous afternoon.

He burst through the hatch in a whirlwind of excitement and golden smiles, a bowl in each hand.

“Silver and Flint caught a shark. I can get this cooked for you, but the crew’s been-”

Abigail tumbled out of bed, heedless of her open robe and reached for the bowl. Billy exhaled on a laugh and by wordless agreement they plopped to the floor to devour portions of raw shark together.

“Slow down,” he mumbled over a fresh bite, “you’ll make yourself sick.”

She paused long to snort at him and kept inhaling her food.

“This should last us at least a few days,” he said. 

“It’s a good omen,” she slowed as her portion got smaller and smaller, “and anything is better than lamprey.”

There wasn’t much shark in her bowl, but she couldn’t finish it. Not yet, anyway. She leaned against her rack and rubbed a hand over her full belly. For this moment, the problems in her world seemed unimportant. She had food. The crew had food. Hope loomed on the horizon.

Billy stretched his long frame out next to her and let out a satisfied groan. When he licked his fingers clean, Abigail’s world tilted on his axis. Something so crude had no business being so entrancing.

He stilled with a pinky still in his mouth and slowly turned his eyes to her. 

_Oh, no._

She should look away. No, she shouldn’t, looking away would make her appear guilty. 

His hand dropped and still he held her gaze. Her heart pounded. Would he kiss her this time? Was yesterday more than a figment of her imagination?

He tilted his head toward her and said, “I have no business wanting you like this.”

It seemed impossible to her that the damnable man could be thinking about her shattered station in life at a time like this. Wait. He just said he wanted her. Warm flutters filled her breast. This was no one-sided infatuation, after all. 

“Yesterday I asked you what you wanted of me,” she said. “Have you considered asking me what I want?”

Having observed Billy quite extensively during her tenures aboard the _Walrus_ , she knew letting him answer that question would result in more talking, more discussion of an issue she realized was quite simple.

So she kissed him. Just a dry meeting of lips before she pulled away, shocked at herself. Judging by Billy’s widened blue eyes, it shocked him, too. His generous mouth ticked up at the corners before he sank a hand into her hair and pulled her face back to his.

Before they could kiss, shouting rose up. 

“WIND.”

“ALL HANDS.”

They popped to their feet, momentarily stunned. Wind! They were saved, for now. If the past few months of her life had taught her anything, it was that courses could change at any moment. None could rightly say what they might face on the journey back to Nassau, or what fate awaited them upon their return. For now, though, she could hope.

“I have to get up there,” Billy said.

“Of course.”

Neither moved. He looked to the hatch then back to her and nodded once before stepping away. Abigail’s heart sank. There was no telling if they would ever get back to the moment he was about to kiss her properly.

He got to the hatch and stopped and turned. He swept her up into his arms, one hand cupping the back of her head, and gave her the proper kiss. His lips were ravenous and when she gasped against him, his tongue swept into her mouth. There was nothing chaste about the way he kissed her.

She felt utterly possessed by him, pressed together from thigh to chest, hungry mouths chasing and exploring. Despite never having been kissed before, she believed with her whole heart that the act could not be improved upon. Her very skin felt alive, blood pounded through her veins, and nothing else in the world mattered except this moment.

Another call for all hands broke through. Billy broke their embrace and rested his forehead against hers. They breathed in each other’s air. She willed her pulse to settle, but it refused.

“I-” he started.

“No,” Abigail said. “Billy Bones, if you apologize, I will toss you overboard myself.”

He laughed and kissed her forehead. “I was going to say I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She let him go, inch by inch, until they held each other by only the fingers of one hand. He opened the hatch and she let his hand fall.

He paused in the hatch to look at her once more, a shy smile gracing his face. Someone above shouted, “Where the fuck is Bones?”

They both laughed.

“Right, I should, um…” he gestured vaguely down the passageway.

“Go,” she said through her laughter.

Long after he’d left, she was still touching her lips and dreaming of a future that looked a little brighter.

  
  
  



End file.
